Of Books And Making Love
by Meowbowwow
Summary: Books Sherlock A very turned on John Watson. Add Sherlock's sultry voice reading passages of Tagore's Gitanjali and our doctor loses control. Smut Alert! but I tried to be tasteful.


If there was one thing the walls of Baker Street were used to (apart from the usual bullets and smiley faces), it was shelves aching with books. Old books, yellowing and thumbed, creaking spines, dog-eared pages, peeling covers. Beautiful, majestic, regal, _Sherlock_, books. It was difficult not to see Sherlock in every room of the flat but slowly, he could be seen in John too - in John's absent limp, in the way he smiled and John's eyes lit up, in how he cleaned up after his experiments. And words. John used to read a few books every month before but with Sherlock, he not only read much more than that but always had a couple of books running together.

It was a winter morning and John woke up, head aching, not having slept well last night. He made his way into the kitchen, hoping to fix himself a nice cup and found Sherlock in one of his blissful moments. There were times when the detective knew that there were people around him and ignored their presence. And there were times like these when he was blissfully lost in his own world, unaware of anything and everything. His features softened and his mouth moved a little, reading silent words from the book, feeling syllables between his tongue, his grey eyes deep and humming with stars he knew nothing about. John made himself a cup and took his usual chair opposite Sherlock, smiling a little in between sips and drinking in every tiny detail of the man he had grown so attached to.

Sherlock's fingers moved in symphony, tracing familiar paths along the book's spine and John ached to be imprinted with those long elegant fingers. His eyes glided over every word like he could read pages and pages from one letter and a warm winter breath escaped his open mouth every now and then. Maybe it was the fact that John had long loved the man and he had just had enough of trying to shrug his feelings off as affection or maybe it was the gorgeous winter of London, but when Sherlock started reading a passage aloud in his deep sultry voice, John got up and stood behind his arm chair.

They didn't move and Sherlock gaze followed John as he covered the inches between his chair and Sherlock's but then the gaze dropped onto the pages and the room was filled with the rustle of a page turning, of many a pages tearing apart in John's heart as Sherlock read :

"Thou hast made me endless, such is thy pleasure. This frail  
vessel thou emptiest again and again, and fillest it ever with  
fresh life."

John bent down and gently pulled the shoulder off the blue dressing gown, bringing the long and slender neck into sharp relief. The pulse fluttered invitingly on its side and John found himself aching to touch it, to feel it under his tongue and wet it to see if it changed its color and texture. And the fluttering pulse throbbed valiantly, more so, as John bent down and kissed Sherlock's pale neck once, pausing only to take a little skin between his teeth and swipe his tongue over it. A pink flush was now creeping up the neck from under Sherlock's grey t-shirt and John had all plans of exploring where it originated from.  
"Read," he whispered into Sherlock's ears, his voice strong and commanding, breathing in the soft curls that fell on his neck that John brushed away with a finger and licked the skin underneath, drawing a sharp intake of breath from their owner.

"This little flute of a reed thou hast carried over hills and  
dales, and hast breathed through it melodies eternally new.

At the immortal touch of thy hands my little heart loses its  
limits in joy and gives birth to utterance ineffable."

Sherlock read more, his voice higher that what it was but words still beautiful as they rolled off his tongue and hung in the air like a mist, stronger than London's fog and acting like a aphrodisiac. John rained a trail of kisses beginning from Sherlock's shoulder to the place where it met his neck. He wrapped his other hand around Sherlock'supper body and sucked greedily at the point, moaning into Sherlock's shoulder and leaving a purple souvenir behind. His helpless tongue, seeking more taste for the gorgeous man under it, slowly travelelled up and found Sherlock's ear lobe, the soft flesh inviting and delicious in John mouth as he sucked on it. Sherlock tilted his head back to face John, his pupils blown inside his eyes that seemed almost begging, his mouth travelled towards John and it took every ounce of John's resolve to direct his face back to the Tagore that was sprawled open on Sherlock's lap. "Read," he whispered again, planting his lips on the back of Sherlock's neck and keeping them there, not kissing till Sherlock read again:

"Thy infinite gifts come to me only on these very small hands of  
mine. Ages pass, and still thou pourest, and still there is room  
to fill."

Sherlock's last word was lost in a breathy sigh that escaped him as John let his hands roam around his torso, not making contact with his skin and feeling the muscles tense under his roving palms and Sherlock clutched at the book tightly and closed his eyes. John could smell the words on his skin, if he closed his eyes, he could probably recite poetry with Sherlock. The skin suddenly seemed manila coloured in the morning light, an old page with words written in invisible ink. Sherlock shifted a little, trying to coax the strong and warm hands inside his shirt but he knew what they needed and after a few seconds, he yielded:

"When thou commandest me to sing it seems that my heart would  
break with pride; and I look to thy face, and tears come to my  
eyes.

All that is harsh and dissonant in my life melts into one sweet  
harmony-and my adoration spreads wings like a glad bird on its  
flight across the sea."

The hands stealthily made their way to the edge of the shirt, the lips never leaving Sherlock's neck alone, and a finger gently stroked the exposed part of his waist, running a current of sensations through Sherlock's nerve endings. His cock that was rock hard already, twitched at the contact and he turned pleading eyes towards John who motioned him to get up. Sherlock got up obediently, the outline of his hardness doing things to John that only his own cock could descibe best as he was made to sit on the couch with his legs dangling across the armrests, his entire body surprisingly comfortable with the new position. He read more :

"I know thou takest pleasure in my singing. I know that only as a  
singer I come before thy presence."

"Oh god, John," Sherlock let escape as John lifted his t-shirt and ran a very wet tongue on his nipples, circling them and watching every little movement on Sherlock's face, how his eyes widened as the tongue made contact with the puckered skin and how Sherlock gave in the the pleasure and closed his eyes when John took the left one in his mouth and sucked on it gently, like savouring a particularly bitter piece of chocolate Sherlock was preferentia to.

The book was now lying across the floor and Sherlock recited bits off his memory, his eyes still closed and the gorgeous mouth open, inviting John in and pushing barely coherent verses out:

"Drunk with the joy of singing I forget myself and call thee  
friend who art my lord.

I know not how thou singest, my master! I ever listen in silent  
amazem-"

His words were cut short as a very hungry mouth made its way on his own, a probing tongue tracing the outline of his cupid bowed lips and resting inside his mouth as John nipped at his lower lip and moaned freely now. Sherlock pushed himself up and let his hands touch John's body, trying to feel every inch of skin as he pulled John's robe off him and found him completely naked underneath. The skin was so warm and rippled under Sherlock's touch that he couldn't wait for them to reach the bedroom. He steered John onto the kitchen table and found strong hands pushing him over the table and cupping his arse, his clothed erection seeking friction against John's exposed one.

"God Sherlock, you are gorgeous. Mmm," came a moan as John peeled Sherlock's clothes off him, his cock hard and glistening. Sherlock tried to reach out to touch it, it looked so inviting jutting out like that but John caught his wrist and directed his hands behind the table. Sherlock clutched at the sides, fascinated at John's dexterous fingers as they peeled every bit of clothing off him, fascinated at the beautiful cock that he knew would feel wonderful inside him.

"John, please, I-" his moan was cut short as a warm mouth closed on his own cock, John's tongue sliding on the length of the underside as he kneaded Sherlock's balls with his hands. John lapped at the head every now and then and Sherlock moaned loudly and obscenely, his hips involuntariy moving to fuck John's mouth. John bobbed his head up and down for a few minutes, savouring the taste but removed Sherlock's cock with a pop and Sherlock's eyes widened as he started begging, pulling John closer for a kiss and mumbling Oh-god-please in his mouth.

"Yes, Sherlock," saying which John pulled Sherlock off the counter and brought him to the edge, gently pulling his cheeks apart and finding the puckered hole. He touched the edge gently as Sherlock's moan was lost in his shudder. John gently circled the hole, trying to tease and prepare but he was so close himself, just by watching Sherlock's gorgeous writhing body under his hands that he met Sherlock's eye and gently pushed one finger in.

Sherlock was now moaning and chanting yes-yes, emboldening John to take the finger deep inside him and open him up. He took the finger out and put it back in again, holding Sherlock's waist with the other hand as he inserted two fingers now, scissoring them and making Sherlock's knees give up. The digits sunk in as Sherlock breathed out against John's neck, licking the sides and biting hard for another finger. He kept chanting John's name now, John knew he was close because his cock glistened with pre-cum, waiting to be licked, the head making contact with his stomach again and again. After he had successfully fucked Sherlock with his fingers and could take no more, he gestured to Sherlock and quickly made his way into his room to retrieve the bottle of lube.

Sherlock looked quite a sight when he came back, limp and aching, his entire body glistened with sweat and there were marks on his neck that screamed 'Property of John Watson". It was enough for John to quickly squeeze a large amount on his palm as he began slicking himself up over the condom. Sherlock got off the table and turned around, exposing his gorgeous ass and desperate eyes to John. John took Sherlock's erection in his own hands and pressed his cock into him, gently easing inside Sherlock and feeling the gorgeous muscles clench around him as Sherlock breathed loudly and begged more.

He started fucking Sherlock in earnest, finding the prostrate within minutes as they estabilished a rhythm. Sherlock was close as John squeezed the head and started working his expert hands on his cock. He felt Sherlock shudder as he hit the spot again and again and again till Sherlock was coming all over his hands. The very feel of Sherlock's hot come on his fingers and John's name as he rode his orgasm was enough to make John come out loudly. They rode their orgasms together, screaming each other's name.

After they were done, John gently pulled out of Sherlock and threw the condom in the bin. He then guided them both to the couch where Sherlock pulled him on top of him and gently kissed his forehead, their spent cocks nestled against each other. They breathed in each other's odours, the smell of sex and London winter in the air and John felt at peace in his lover's arms. Sherlock's arms were warm and protective as they held John, his fingers drawing shapes on John's exposed back.

"We should take a shower, Sherlock. Get up gorgeous," John muttered in his chest, kissing it gently, feeling the sticky mess between them and really not wanting to clean it.  
"Yeah, do you want me to take the book in there?" Sherlock said, the twinkle back in his eyes and John felt his breath give away to those gorgeous eyes.


End file.
